


Mondays at Malta

by thatskinnyguy



Category: Agent 47/Hitman games, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crossover, Fandom Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatskinnyguy/pseuds/thatskinnyguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Bodyswap 2015, MI6 agent 007 meets 47.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mondays at Malta

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a really late attempt at bodyswap (technically? I haven't got anyone to swap with, so it's probably me just trying my hand in writing fic?) and here's a mash-up of Agent 47 and the Craig movieverse. I'd love to write more of this, just to get the respective partners do their thing; Q snarking and sassing with Bond, and Diana+47 being the epitome of a professional relationship.  
> But yeah, words. Ideas. Guh.

He pushed his way past against the throng of people on the platform, just another tired and weary face in the crowd. But where these folks are actually on their way home from a long day of work, the week he’s been having seems to be making sure he won’t be seeing England again for a very long time.

His little unauthorized reconnaissance of his mark’s residence marked the start of things going downhill. The flat didn’t look much lived in and confirmed his suspicions that he was pitting against another professional. Another sort of agent, probably? There was still no intel as of then from TSS about the cover of this mark of his, and right then it should have already set off warning bells.

He raked his eyes appreciatively over the suits he found in the wardrobe. There was a black, two button notch lapel two piece suit with an assortment of ties in subdued tones and others in similar style. His eye swept over another crimson silk tie draped over a white shirt. It all looked custom and exquisite, if his experience with his own bespoke attire was to be trusted. A man after his own heart. He let out an amused sigh at the figure of speech. Indeed.

He found no other sort of clothes; apparently this assassin used what he can get in the field. Tricky to pull off, but the reward was worth it. If this man worked like a ghost, virtually undetectable, then it was no wonder intelligence was limited.

And speaking of limitations, he looked at his watch. He was taking too much risks; he doesn’t even have an idea when his mystery agent was getting back. Maybe he should have just contacted TSS first and told them what he was planning to do. At least then they’d give more support other than the tech he filched off from them last week.

The thumb drive from Q Branch that he held in his hand then was one of such. He thought of his limited knowledge of the hardware he carried as he quickly inserted it into a laptop left thoughtfully on the side of the bed. Hopefully the laptop’s drives will give more information and finally end the streak of going in blind for him. The screen lit up after a few minutes, while a notification beeped at Bond’s mobile. Q’s latest intrusion software project had finished the job and now he was in.

He stared at a strangely familiar insignia of a skull within a triangle. There was no log-in prompt but there was still a delay as the system began accessing what looked like a secure network. He studied the logo as he waited. Was that a crown on the skull? And was that motto in Latin? He focused in trying to remember where he’d seen it before.

That was when he heard the key in the lock. The door opened and the switches were hit one by one. He cursed inwardly at being caught unaware. But then for a split second he also wondered why the door sounded like it didn’t even open all the way to admit anyone.

Then he noticed. The lights weren’t being opened on a sequence. Without waiting to find out why, he crashed through the window, ignoring the fact that they were a hundred floors up.

The bedroom he just left then exploded even before the light bulbs flickered to life.

****

He’s lost all contact with TSS on that Monday then fled the safe house as per protocol a few hours later. And now, seven days on the road living on nothing but his Navy (and Double O) training keeping him alive, he abandoned his suit and hid in plain sight. He was just another homeless old man in the streets now. He laughed bitterly at the thought and headed once again to the designated drop point, hoping _that the place would have something by now_. Or at least anyone. An operative from allies in this country would be most welcome, but the enemy agent can also do.. He just needs a target.

He rounded the corner carefully, a hand smoothing over his hidden Walther when he saw someone squatting in the alley, smoking a cigarette. The beanie cap and thick stubble threw him off but only for a moment. He’d know that tousled hair and slight frame anywhere.

A mixture of shock and relief fought in his stomach (along with the healthy dose of alcohol he took for breakfast; it was for the disguise, he told himself) as he let his fingers relax from death grip on the biometric scanner of his gun. Only to draw it in a nerve-jarring heartbeat when he saw another man emerge from another alleyway.

The bald fellow was wearing the suit he saw in the hotel. And he was heading straight for Q.

He immediately abandoned all effort in sneaking and was rewarded by the man in the suit spinning around and pointing two stainless steel Colt M1911A1s right at him.

“Bond! Stop!”

Only Q’s clipped shout stopped James from pulling the trigger. He hesitated, but only for a moment, after he saw that the enemy agent seemed no more inclined to shoot as well. And then, as if things couldn’t get more perplexing, the other man lowered his two guns.

Bond was still wondering what the bloody hell is going on when Q crashed into him, long arms around him like he was afraid that he wasn’t real. As if reading his mind, Q told him this so with his face muffled by James’ thick woollen jacket and in a rough voice filled with so much emotion.

*****

“I will speak with Diana.”

James adjusted his new earwig and listened as the call patched him and the sallow faced man to Q’s comms. Despite the unshaven jaw and the curiously bright eyes that were probably powered by a week of not sleeping, Q’s glare directed at their new friend was lost on him. Bond fought a smile and chastised himself inwardly for thinking how adorable his lover was right now.

His lover who was currently busting in the scene and saving his arse, making all the important calls and clinging to him like he still can’t believe Bond was there.

“Diana here” A posh sounding voice came on the line, making James sit up straighter.

“Miss Burnwood, we have retrieved 007 and are ready for extraction.” Q barely bothered to hide his irritated, nay, pissed tone from the woman. James almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He’ll decide on that when he gets all the information on the situation.

“Quartermaster, in behalf of the Agency I apologize for the misunderstanding, but please understand that we also have been compromised and as so, will ensure that we clear everything up. Our stance on _not_ targeting allied government agencies, much more Her Majesty’s secret service, has not changed.”

Her apology did the trick, but then again, Q wasn’t the type to hold irrational grudges. Because he’s a professional, James thought as he absentmindedly wove his fingers through Q’s fringe. Q leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, saying,

“We will be expecting that, Miss Burnwood. Now, when can you get us back to London?”

The pause before Diana replied would’ve been missed by anyone else not comprehensively trained in reading the nuances of human expression. Bond’s contented mood sank slightly at the thought of not seeing England for a bit more. Well, at least he had Q here too.

“I’m truly sorry Quartermaster, but with MI6 as it is right now, I believe it’s the best we all stay in deep cover until we establish a secure line to your superiors.”

Bond interrupted, “Is that really the wisest course of action?”

Diana actually laughed, “Believe me, Mister Bond; the Agency is quite familiar in dealing with situations like these. I’ll be in touch. And although I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet with you soon,”

“That’s for the best.”

Bond and Q looked at the bald agent, surprised. So he talked, Bond thought, sharing apparently equally amused looks with his Quartermaster. Diana continued as if she was never interrupted, “47, you will never let me live that one down, will you? Stage a hit man’s death for his own good and this is what I get.”

“Let’s talk about this some other time, Diana. We have the whole day ahead of us.” Q was already pulling up reports from other intelligence agencies on his pad, formulating a plan to get to the bottom of all this mess. He looked more like himself now, James noted with satisfaction.

Things are finally looking up then.


End file.
